Paper
Creativity is eternal and shouldn't be confused with creation. It does not improve with practice or diminish with its absence. Nothing about it can be owned, claimed, or held.

What is genuinely creative moves when the artist is quiet or absent. Within him, there is an emptiness: a spaciousness pregnant with possibilities, pushing itself out, almost infant in its expression. When he loosens his grip, the work arrives of its own accord, as if from depths which surpass authorship. He is created by the work, therefore, he is always a human being first: condemned neither to complete liberty nor complete necessity, but to live in tension between the two.

Creation seems to be a sacrificial encounter that uses a person without sanctifying them.